Chapter 5 #2
She hadn’t, she reminded herself. It wasn’t Hannah who had broken the trust between her and Jude, blowing up plans that had been months – arguably years – in the making.
It wasn’t Hannah who’d disappeared to the other side of the world without a trace, expunging all proof of her existence, even online, except for a single paragraph on the LogicLabs corporate website.
She’d never spoken the thought aloud, but she even suspected that, a short while after he left for Australia, Jude had marked her emails as junk and blocked her phone number – so total was his commitment to never hearing from her again.
Charlie pulled Hannah up off her seat and into a bone-crushing hug. ‘That’s my girl,’ she said. ‘You can do this – and we’re only here for a few more hours.’
Hannah took a breath and made a conscious effort to square her shoulders as she made for the door. Charlie was right. This situation was awkward – agonising – but it would be over by three o’clock this afternoon.
If Jude could pretend they were strangers, then so could she.
By eleven o’clock, Hannah’s social battery was comprehensively drained.
She’d welcomed more than a hundred people, handed out countless goody bags and answered an array of questions about the day’s lunch menu.
She’d been cheerful and chatty as she directed people to the tea and coffee stand during the current ‘comfort break’, even going so far as to extol the virtues of the freshly baked cookies on offer.
All of this she’d achieved despite feeling like she’d been drop-kicked in the chest.
Thus far, two of the four speakers on Clive’s programme had delivered their presentations, the majority of which had been entirely impenetrable to Hannah. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t have bothered her – but Jude’s presence made her acutely aware of how different she was from these people. From him.
She was far from stupid, but environments like this made it difficult for her to hold onto that truth with the sure, self-confident grip she’d mostly maintained since leaving school.
Academic study had been a slog for Hannah; though she didn’t lack intelligence, she was terrible at exams. After struggling through A levels, she’d declined to take up a place at university and got her start in events work at a local hotel and golf club.
There were plenty of kinds of success, Hannah’s mum had assured her, and the only sort worth having was the one that made you happy.
Not everyone had shared this sentiment, of course, and it had largely been drowned out by celebrations of Ed’s results and offer of a place at Loughborough – not to mention Jude’s four A* grades and imminent departure for Cambridge.
She stood in a shadowy alcove, keen to keep an eye on things but not wanting to attract attention as the crowd of academics, doctors, journalists and healthcare executives milled around the large, high-ceilinged space.
She didn’t need to look for him to know that Jude was on the opposite side of the room, and she remonstrated with herself for being so aware of him.
She risked a glance in his direction and saw him scanning the place, as if searching for someone.
Clive, probably, she thought, but she held herself as still as possible anyway so there was no risk of him noticing her.
At eleven fifteen, the conference attendees began drifting back to the other end of the room, taking their seats in front of the stage as the day’s third speaker stepped up to the lectern.
Once everyone was settled, Hannah mucked in with the trio of waiting staff she’d hired for the day, quietly collecting used cups, plates and glasses.
She deposited them on a mobile trolley so she could wheel them back to the kitchen.
When she got there, she found Charlie removing gigantic sheets of clingfilm from carefully stacked platters of sandwiches and wraps.
To her left, another trolley was already stacked with pots of freshly made salads, and Hannah – her empty stomach griping painfully – resisted the urge to swipe a delicious-looking chicken Caesar creation from the top tier.
‘Anything I can do to help?’ she asked.
‘I don’t think so,’ Charlie said. ‘Everything’s under control – I just wanted to get all this ready for the lunch set-up.
We can put it out on the buffet tables during the final talk.
They’re far enough away from the stage that it won’t disrupt anything, and cracking on means we’re more likely to get out of here on time. ’
‘OK,’ Hannah said, aware that Charlie was only thinking of her.
Nevertheless, she felt her shoulders slump a little at the prospect of overhearing Jude’s presentation.
She didn’t want to be in the room while he delivered whatever was forthcoming, and she couldn’t untangle the various reasons why.
Was she reluctant on principle to be in the same room as him after he’d blanked her earlier?
Or was she, on some level, fearful he might impress her?
Charlie turned and began adding swirls of freshly whipped cream to a tray of mini tiramisu pots. This, Hannah had learned, was the sort of finishing touch best added to desserts after they’d been transported from Charlie’s own kitchen to the location where they’d be eaten.
‘I wonder what he’ll be talking about,’ Charlie mused, apparently loath to say Jude’s name out loud, but unable to resist speculating.
She rapped the side of a mini grater with the heel of her hand and showered a tray of eight desserts with fine dark chocolate shavings.
‘No doubt some newfangled computer system his firm will sell to gullible NHS execs, who would in fact be far better off spending the money on more nurses.’
‘I’ve no idea,’ Hannah said, not sure whether she hoped or feared Charlie had Jude’s number.
Would it be comforting or terrible if he’d gone the full Lex Luthor and started using his intellectual powers for evil?
It was certainly possible that LogicLabs would be selling some white elephant; over the years, her mum had frequently complained that the health service was prone to ‘investing’ in expensive yet useless tech.
However, she’d also been known to extol the virtues of ‘going digital’.
No one had been more surprised than Hannah when Jane Matthews’s basic IT literacy blossomed into a passion for using smartphones and the internet to support improved care for her patients.
‘Here,’ Hannah said, feeling the need to change the subject. ‘Give me the cream – I’ll pipe, you sprinkle. It’ll save time.’